Filling in the blanks
by Nikstlitslepmur
Summary: How did Charming react to Snow's deal with Rumpelstiltskin? SPOILERS possible if you are not completely current on Once Upon a Time
1. At Ella's Wedding

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that _ABC_'s geniuses have given us on _Once Upon a Time_.

**Filling in the blanks…**

_Extensions or POV shifts of what might have happened from Snow's and/or Prince Charming's perspectives. From various episodes and in no particular order…__**SPOILERS possible if you are not completely current on **__**Once Upon a Time**__**.**_

Episode 1x04 – "The Price of Gold"

– _At Ella's wedding…_

…"All I did was get married," Ella laughed with a degree of humility most becoming of a new princess.

"All you did," Snow paused as she held Ella's gaze steadily, determined that her friend fully understand her praise, "was prove that _anyone _can change her life."

She watched as true gratitude beamed through Ella's eyes. "I'm proud of you," Snow added quietly, and they moved back to their partners. It was clear her friend appreciated her words, for the new bride was too overcome to reply with anything but a warm smile that matched her own. However, Snow doubted that Ella could ever truly grasp how much this night symbolized for _her_. This night, this glorious night of celebration was the first true sign that there might be hope. Hope for her family, her kingdom, her people.

She twirled in step with King Christopher's exquisite court musicians, losing sight of Ella whom she supposed had moved to rejoin her prince in the waltz. The thrumming of the light-hearted strings echoed in her heart as her own prince came into view. Snow smiled knowingly at her husband, for she knew, though he danced expertly, he would much rather they be back in the grounds of their own kingdom, riding their horses against the backdrop of a moonlit horizon.

The waltz was drawing to a close, and as she joined her husband once more, her first and last partner in this strange version of the "The Ship's Cook" dance that Prince Thomas had brought back from his journeys, she sighed as James took her into the final spin and they bowed gracefully to signal the end.

A smattering of obligatory applause for the musicians followed as she ascended from her curtsy with grace, meeting her prince's beaming gaze.

"And why, may I ask, are you looking at me that way?" she asked with a playful arch of her brow.

But James shook his head. "I fear that telling you would spoil the moment, my dear," he teased.

Snow stuck her nose up in mock offense and made a grand show of moving away from him. "Well if you won't tell me, I suppose you'll have to find someone else to be _charming _with this evening."

The prince's grasp on her hand tightened and he pulled her back with a firm but affectionate tug. She laughed as he took both of her hands in his and kissed her, ever so chastely on the forehead (this was after all, a public assembly).

"I was thinking," he said, his tone now soft and sincere, "that it was nice to see you enjoying yourself, Snow."

At his words, Snow sighed, the flood of worries and anxieties rushing back to her like a tidal wave. James was right. It _did _spoil the moment. One of these days, she would learn to listen to him as well as she loved him.

"Well," she offered at last, "as you have often said, I can't spend every waking minute of every day worrying about what she may or may not do to us." He squeezed her hands, nodding. "Besides," she glanced over at the rest of the assembly, most of the people at _this _wedding still blissfully unaware of what had occurred at her own, "this is a sign that good things can still happen." She looked back at him whose eyes reflected a tiny bit of her sadness. "It's been a good _day_, James," she whispered. "I'll save my worrying for sleepless _nights_."

This time, without regard for propriety or decorum, he kissed her fully. "We both will," he promised in a whisper as they drew apart. For another dance was about to begin…


	2. Bad News from Dear Friends

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that _ABC_'s geniuses have given us on _Once Upon a Time_.

**Filling in the blanks…**

_Extensions or POV shifts of what might have happened from Snow's and/or Prince Charming's perspectives. From various episodes and in no particular order…__**SPOILERS possible if you are not completely current on **__**Once Upon a Time**__**.**_

Episode 1x04 – "The Price of Gold"

– _Bad news from dear friends…_

"How could she be so foolish?" his wife cried, practically sawing right through the table with her knife and fork as she attacked the roast lamb Bashful had so generously seasoned and basted all afternoon.

"Snow—" James attempted calmly, though it was of little use tonight. The impetuous fire, which blazed within his princess whenever she felt annoyed or challenged, typically amused him when it was inspired by the playful banter in which they so often indulged. There was, however, nothing playful about the events that preceded this tense and worrisome dinner. Prince Thomas had left quite early that morning from his own kingdom and traversed miles of frozen roads, arriving just before supper with alarming news. He and his Ella were facing trouble from the worst sort of villain. And while James was more than aware of the dangers now facing both kingdoms, he was a bit more concerned for his wife at present.

"How _could _she?" Snow continued cutting into her meat. "How could she not foresee the price of such magic?" It was unfathomable to Snow that just a few months ago she had been dancing with Ella at her wedding, singing her praises and blessing her joyous union to Thomas. She should have known it would not last.

Gently, James covered her wrist, stilling her hand which was clenching the fork so tightly, he thought she might actually snap Florinda's good silver in two. "She couldn't have known—"

"Of _course _she—" but James gave her a gentle squeeze and she finally looked up.

"No," he said, his voice soothing, but firm. "She couldn't. And even if she _had_ known, it wouldn't have made any difference. Rumpelstiltskin's power isn't in the deals themselves. It's in his manipulation."

He held her gaze a few moments and finally she sighed, shaking her head as she released her fork, and laced her fingers through his own. "She might have at least been more careful. Chosen her words more—"

James frowned, "Darling, you _saw_ the kind of life she had. She wasn't raised a royal. She wasn't _raised _at all. She could barely have been aware of the everyday dangers in her _own _kingdom much less the state secrets of _this_ one." But still, Snow's reproachful glower did not soften and James grew troubled that Snow remained so uncharitable toward her friend. Snow and Ella had known one another for quite some time now, having met each other long before their respective betrothals. Slowly, he dipped his head a little toward her, bringing his eyes level with her bowed head. "Snow?"

At that moment, Snow White pushed herself away from the table and bolted from her chair. It was a childish move, for she had nowhere really to go. Their evening repast had purposely been sent to their private chambers at _her _express wishes in order that the servants might not hear them speak of their friends' dilemma. She chided herself for her behavior but could not bring herself to answer for it. Not yet. Not like this…how could she tell him now?...

"Snow?" he tried again, trailing behind her as she went to her bedroom window. She did not face him, and he approached no further. It was clear that something vexed her beyond the already disturbing news from Thomas. He watched as she stood, staring out at the stars, her arms wrapped around her waist, though he knew she wasn't cold. A slight wind breezed through the window and caught hold of her long ebony hair which had loosened from its pins and combs and was cascading in waves down the length of her back. James's breath caught in his throat as the moonlight peaked out from behind the clouds, lighting her up like an angel. "Fairest of the land" indeed (though she was likely to stab him with Grumpy's pick ax if he _ever_ phrased it like _that_).

When at last she turned to him, he was startled to find her eyes swimming in tears. Snow never cried. Not out of fear or distress anyway. Sometimes out of sadness, often out of love…but never in fear. The sight made him practically leap forward, gathering her arms in his. "What _is _it?" he implored, unable to stand it any longer. "Snow, we will find a way to stop him. We won't let Rumpelstiltskin –"

"She made a deal. She promised him her _baby_."

"Yes, we've been through this! She _didn't know_ at the—"

"Her _baby_, James," she cried. "If you and Thomas can't stop him, Ella will lose her _child_." James shook his head, still not understanding. And how could he? Slowly, she withdrew one arm from his grasp and laid her palm protectively...over her belly. "I c-can't…I just can't imagine anything worse than that...can you?" She stared at the soft pale carpeting beneath her slippers, unable to look up again.

James's heart suddenly pounded so violently, he felt sure she could hear it beating out of his chest. Tenderly, with all the restraint and gentility he could muster, he reached out and raised her chin to meet his gaze. "Snow?" he managed in a hoarse voice. "Darling are you…"

Moments passed like hours between them before Snow finally looked up…and nodded. "I saw Doc this morning. Just hours before Thomas arrived."

James did not trust himself to speak. There were simply no words that would do. For the joy he felt he knew was not reciprocated. After months of worry over the queen's threat, after the night terrors that haunted her no matter how he tried to quell her fears, she'd learned of her friend's tragic mistake the very morning she'd learned she was pregnant. _I shall destroy your happiness_…the queen's voice echoed in his head. Perhaps this was what she'd meant.

And yet, James could not help it as he beamed down at her, smiling. He more than understood her fears; he shared them. But he was not about to let anyone – not Ella, not the queen, not Rumpelstiltskin – stand in the way of this moment. He clasped her hands tightly in his. "Come," he said softly. "Follow me."

Snow looked at him curiously, her eyes still bleary, but obeyed, following him out of their chambers. "James," she asked as he led them through the corridors and down the long winding steps. "James, where are we going?"

"Patience, dear," he grinned, continuing onward, all the while passing confused chambermaids and guards in the entrance hall (some of whom jumped rather guiltily back into position from their relaxed poses, completely unprepared for seeing the Prince and his wife barreling down from their chambers so late at night). "At ease, gentlemen," he waved at them.

Snow, hustling along behind him, scoffed loudly. "Do you always have to be so damn _charming_?" she let out a little laugh, and James rejoiced in hearing it.

"You would know that better than anyone."

He continued to lead a bewildered Snow out of the castle and down the short hill towards the stables. The stable hand reacted much the same way the guards had and hurriedly sprang to his feet upon seeing the prince approach. "Ready my horse, Aaron!" James called down to him.

The boy was lighting fast and by the time they'd reached the stables, Cain was ready. James pulled Snow into the saddle behind him and they took off into the night. The wind was brisk against Snow's cheeks, and as she clutched to her husband, she found herself smiling in spite all her misgivings. From the moment he'd awakened her from her poisoned slumber, she had known that her prince had a talent for making the best out of the worst situations. She guessed where they were heading now, so she no longer questioned him. His intent was clear and she would allow him to follow it through, but for Snow it was already enough.

James pushed Cain as fast as he had when they'd ridden to save his sleeping princess many months ago, but he stopped them just short of the path that, if followed, would lead down to the dwarves' old cottage. He took a deep breath and then dismounted, helping Snow slide off the saddle moments after. Both were windswept and panting, their breaths mingling in small puffs of chilly night air. Instinctively, Snow hugged herself against the wintry evening and James immediately removed his cloak and threw it around her. "Now," he said, standing on a forest path for which she needed no explanation, for though it was one of a dozen ordinary roads, it was here that Snow had first met her Prince 'Charming'. He pulled her to him by the sides of his cloak and said gruffly, "tell me again."

This time she smiled, gazing lovingly into his crystal blue eyes. Their problems now seemed miles away…literally…which had clearly been the point. Shivering slightly, but no longer from the cold, she brought her hands to his chest then slipped them up around his neck. "James," she whispered, "we're having a baby."

And in the shadows of the evergreens, man and wife glistening in the moonlight, James wrapped his arms around her and kissed her – Snow White…the mother of his child.

*****Thanks so much to all who subscribed and read! You've made a **_**Once**_** fanfic newcomer feel very welcome! Stay tuned!*****


	3. More in the Mines

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that _ABC_'s geniuses have given us on _Once Upon a Time_.

**Filling in the blanks…**

_Extensions or POV shifts of what might have happened from Snow's and/or Prince Charming's perspectives. From various episodes and in no particular order…__**SPOILERS possible if you are not completely current on **__**Once Upon a Time**__**.**_

Episode 1x04 – "The Price of Gold"

– _More in the mines…_

"Once he's in there, he'll never get out. You'll be safe," James assured the young princess as her husband, Thomas, stood in front of her, giving her strength.

"We can do this, Ella," he said.

Ella sighed, gave the dwarf-crafted cage a confident nod and then turned. In her expression, James observed the first sign of hope in this poor girl's face that he'd seen in months. "Okay," she said. "Let's get him."

"Excellent," James said.

"Yeah, wonderful," mumbled Grumpy, "Just so we're clear, the whole thing hinges on Rumpelstiltskin _believing _that you're willing to give up _two—_"

"She understands, Grumpy," James snapped at the notoriously ill-tempered dwarf. "She knows what's at stake."

Grumpy let out a loud sort of grunt, but the Prince's stern warning seemed to mollify him for the time being.

Thomas turned to his friend and asked, "Where is this meeting to take place?"

"Four nights from now," James replied and then turned to Ella, "near the village spring close to your old house."

"The one near the well?" Ella glanced around at the rather dark and dank prisons. "Isn't that rather far from these mines?"

"It must occur close to where the first deal was made," James explained. "If it were arranged any closer to this kingdom, 'Stiltskin would grow suspicious."

"Why?"

James shot Thomas an uncomfortable look. "Well…because…" he struggled for an explanation, but his friend stepped in.

"He needs to feel he's dealing with you and _only _you," the young prince explained. It sufficed, for Ella asked no more questions and the party turned back to the entrance of the mines. Thomas exchanged a knowing nod with James, tacitly acknowledging that there was no need to fully explain their choice of meeting place. Ella's naiveté about Rumpelstiltskin was actually an advantage at this point; in arranging the meeting at her father's old house, they intended to make it appear to the imp that Ella was still gullible enough to believe that their deal was a one-time, exclusive arrangement rather than the cunning and sophisticated plot of a serial kidnapper who'd conducted multiple dealings in multiple realms. Still…James and Thomas wordlessly agreed that there was no need to remind Ella of just how trusting and (to quote his wife) foolish she had been.

As the group continued their trek back up through the mines, James watched as Ella's eyes nervously darted between the walls. He sensed a question there, but he knew how much recent events had debased that ease and confidence he had so admired in Thomas's bride. "What is it, Ella?" he offered helpfully.

She started at his question, for the party had been silent, but quickly regained her composure. "I was just wondering, um," she tightened her grip on her blue cloak. "What's so special about the mines? I mean if no other prison could hold him, how could this?" It was a fair question. A smart one. Thomas smiled.

"These cavern walls are laced with minerals of pure magic," James started to explain.

But Grumpy proudly cut in. "It'll be like a magic prison," he explained. "The gems we mine are eventually ground into the powder and dust that supplies our kingdom's best fairies and sorcerers." He gave the walls an approving grin.

Ella frowned, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "But if that's true, wouldn't he figure out a way to _use _that magic to escape? Grind it up like you do?"

"No," was Grumpy's brusque and completely unhelpful reply. James glared impatiently at the dwarf who rolled his eyes and grudgingly elaborated. "'Stiltskin don't use magic that way, yer Highness."

"He doesn't?"

"No, he doesn't," James confirmed as they turned a corner and a long passageway of brightly lit torches came into view. "First of all, remember that his power will be nullified by the quill. But even so, wands and fairy dust don't work for him for any length of time. Such minerals have to be used with pure intent or it runs out."

At this, Ella came to a dead halt.

Thomas turned to face her. "Ella? What's wrong?"

She was staring at the floor, her eyes watering. "That's exactly what happened," she whispered.

"Whatis?"

She looked up. "His magic, remember?" her mind had drifted back to the very first night of the ball. The night she thought all her wishes had finally been answered. Rumpelstiltskin had used her fairy godmother's wand to transform her rags into riches…and at midnight… "It ran out."

Thomas reached out and stroked a tear away from her cheek. "You must stop torturing yourself."

"I was so stupid," she shook her head.

James stepped forward and the two princes helped her down to a nearby niche in the wall. "Ella," he said, kneeling before them both while Thomas sat beside her, stroking her hair. "Rumpelstiltskin's power is in the artifice of persuasion. His contracts are just the end result."

"I should have been more careful—"

"You were no match for him," he shook his head, "_No one_ is. Twenty years ago, he conned one of my father's young subjects, a girl about your age, into the same kind of deal. Back then, his power was in his name."

"His name?"

Thomas nodded. "Knowing his name gave you power over him," he said, "so with King George's help, the woman was able to bargain for a new deal."

Ella's brow creased in confusion. "But he introduced himself to _me_ almost immediately."

James sighed. "Unfortunately he's ruined so many lives and poisoned so many realms that his name no longer affords him the protection it once did."

"Which you would think would make him less powerful," added Grumpy. "But it didn't."

"Right," James continued. "He focuses all his power now in the deal itself. It's all manipulation. You were desperate, and alone, and penniless," he added, regretting the severity of the truth but knowing it was necessary. "You were the perfect target."

Ella choked back a small sob and sighed. "And what about now?" she asked quietly. "I'm _still _no match for him."

"Yes you are," Thomas pulled her up, planting her firmly on her feet, and grasped her by the shoulders. "You're _ten_ _times_ stronger than he is!"

The exaggeration was downright laughable to her, and indeed, the princess chuckled at the absurdity of such a remark. "And what makes you say that?"

But Thomas held her gaze intently, guided her hand down to her stomach, and covered it with his own. "Because you're a mother," he said simply, though his few words spoke volumes.

The moment was an intimate one, but James did not blush or cough with embarrassment, for he understood perfectly this level adoration Thomas felt for his bride. Grumpy, however, let out a loud, almost bellowing yawn, "accidentally" striking his staff against the iron grating that sealed off a section of mining tunnels. "Sorry," he grunted, pushing past the rest of the party to get away from this sentimental mawkishness.

At the dwarf's abrupt exit, Ella dried her tears, letting out a weak laugh. "Oh, do apologize to Grumpy for us, James."

"I'll do nothing of the sort," James winked at them, turning to continue their ascent from the mines. "The little man needs a little sentiment now and then."

"And James?" Ella added before she continued with them. James turned once more, for her tone was once again grave. "Please thank Snow…for sending out her bluebirds."

He shook his head. "You can thank her yourself. She's up at the castle waiting."

"No, I couldn't possibly face—"

"Ella—" Thomas squeezed her hand.

"She _wants _to see you," James assured her, nodding in that kind, almost brotherly way she had grown accustomed to seeing in her husband's dear friend.

She hesitated a moment longer, held tight to Thomas's arm, and nodded. "All right," she said. And the three climbed their way out of the mines and up to the castle for dinner.

*****No Snow in this chapter, I know, but some more from our favorite Prince Charming. More to come, though approaching a work week. Stay tuned!*****


	4. Nightmares and Dreamscapes

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that _ABC_'s geniuses have given us on _Once Upon a Time_.

**Filling in the blanks…**

_Extensions or POV shifts of what might have happened from Snow's and/or Prince Charming's perspectives. From various episodes and in no particular order…__**SPOILERS possible if you are not completely current on **__**Once Upon a Time**__**.**_

Episode 1x01 – Sometime before the "Let me talk…to _him_" scene in "The Pilot."

_Nightmares and Dreamscapes…_

_Snow drew a sharp breath and gasped in horror when she raced into the room and beheld the terrifying scene: the queen standing over her husband's lifeless body._

"_I warned you this day would come, Snow White," her evil step mother cackled, her shrilling voice magnified by the great hall. "I vowed to destroy your happiness if I had to go to Hell and back. And now you – " she thrust a bony finger forward, pointing at her already breaking heart, "you shall finally know the pain you have caused me!"_

_ But Snow was barely listening. She had eyes only for the man lying limp at her feet, his eyes frozen open in terror. She wanted to scream but no sound would escape her. She tried to reach for him, but found it impossible to move. It was then that she noticed something…something else…something was not…right…something…was missing…_

_ "Farewell my dear," came the queen's triumphant adieu. "And don't worry about the little one!" It was then Snow finally tore her gaze from James's body and writhed in agony as she stared at the queen…holding a baby in her evil grasp. With a final menacing cry, the queen turned into the blackening clouds forming behind her. Watching her child disappear, Snow finally found her voice…and let out a bloodcurdling scream…_

Snow wrenched herself from the terrifying nightmare, gasping for air as if she'd just resurfaced from the depths of an unfathomable abyss. Drenched in sweat and panting, she propped herself up on her elbows. James, she checked immediately, slept peacefully beside her, and her immediate discomfort upon waking as she wrapped her hands protectively around her stomach confirmed that their baby was also safe.

Still panting – though quietly now so as to not wake her sleeping husband – she swung her legs slowly to the floor and slipped her feet into a pair warm of moccasins. It was several hours yet before dawn but well past the witching hour. It had been a long day for James, who had once again spent the better part of it in the mines with Grumpy, drilling Rumpelstiltskin for information about Prince Thomas's disappearance. It was no use of course. The magics that bound Ella to that contract were more powerful than even 'Stiltskin himself really knew. Thomas was lost. And only the unthinkable would bring him back.

Still sitting along the side of the bed, she glanced back at her husband whose handsome face lay half covered by the pillow he'd nearly wrung the stuffing out of in his sleep. She could still see the lines of worry and guilt etched in the creases of his forehead as he rested for the night, fully intending – she knew all too well– to return to the mines tomorrow and begin again. Snow wished she could get him to stop – to realize that Thomas's disappearance was the result of 'Stiltskin's magic and not his own plan. That it was no one's fault except the villain who now lay trapped in a dwarf-made cage. But it was not in her husband's nature to give up. Not on one for whom he cared so deeply; Thomas was more than a fellow royal – he was practically a brother…more so in many ways…than his own kin.

Ella herself had been inconsolable, and though it had been several weeks since she'd returned to her home kingdom, her tear-streaked face was still so clear in Snow's mind. "_Everything you love…everything ALL of you love…will be taken from you,_" the queen's voice rang in her head. "_And out of your suffering…will rise my victory._"

Snow shivered and hugged herself against the midnight air of the bedchamber. Moving carefully (for she had to go slowly now), she rose from the bed, pulled on a pale blue dressing gown and moved toward the door, pausing for a moment as she glanced at the corner of the room where stood a small crib, patiently awaiting its unborn occupant. She sighed, wondering not for the first time that day, if they would even make it that far. Unable to look any longer, she turned back to the entrance and opened the door.

The stone floor was cold, even through her slippers, and she pulled her gown tighter around her chest as she retrieved a torch from the sconce just outside the chamber's entrance. One of the guards was instantly on alert and Snow rolled her eyes at the loud, clumsy clang of his armor shifting as he made a hasty salute. "Your highness!" he stammered. "Is there anything—"

"Couldn't sleep, Clarence," she whispered, indicating that he should do the same as she glanced back at the chamber in which (she hoped) her husband still slept.

"Yes, Your Highness," he whispered back. "Would you like assistance getting to—"

"I am with child, Clarence," she interrupted. "I'm not an invalid."

"Of course, Ma'am," the guard slunk back to his post with a small grin as Snow made her way down the corridor and then down the stairs. She wasn't entirely sure of where she was going. She knew simply, she could not go back – not with the haunting image of her husband's murder and the queen stealing her child burned into her mind.

After several minutes of wandering the quiet palace, Snow found herself at the great mahogany doors of the library. There was a soft glow emanating from beneath the door. She wondered briefly if the servants had neglected to put out the fire and decided to check when suddenly, the handle beneath her hand swung away from her, opening from the other side.

She gasped in surprise, a bit unsteadied for a moment before she let out a sigh of relief at the man before her. "Geppetto," she said.

"Sorry to startle you, Your Highness," the old carpenter said with a warm smile.

"No no, it's ok. I didn't know anyone else was in here."

He made a small bow and then gestured to a book in his hand. "I was finishing a book when I saw shadows under the door and grew curious." He paused a moment and added with a soft chuckle, "You are not a specter I trust?"

Snow offered a smile, "most definitely not."

They stood in the doorway, a sort of awkward pause between old friends separated now by several divisions of class and station. "The room is yours, Ma'am." He made another bow and turned to leave.

"Oh no, please," she hastened, her hand coming to rest on his arm. "I could use the company."

The master carpenter smiled and nodded, gesturing for his princess to precede him into the room. "Trouble sleeping, Ma'am?" he asked as they settled into two large arm chairs by the fire. The soft glow Snow had seen through the cracks of the door now warmed her fully, the flames of the fire dancing and crackling, as she draped her arm over her enlarged belly.

"Is it that obvious?" she sighed, wondering – not for the first time – just how much the old man noticed about everyone. She suspected he was quite the wisest man in the kingdom. After all…he had seen so much.

Geppetto shrugged, "I ask only because you seldom visit the library this late."

Snow rested her chin on her hand and cocked an eyebrow, "and how would you know that?"

He smiled. "I am here every night at this hour."

Her eyes widened. "Every night?" she asked. "Why so late?"

He breathed a sigh of utter contentment, "My Pinocchio, Your Highness." He made an absent gesture toward the ceiling, knowing that his son slept soundly in his chamber above. "And my work of course. Both keep me very busy during the day." She nodded, a tacit acknowledgement of the trials they all knew the old man had endured to save his delightful little boy. Geppetto picked up the volume he had been reading and turned it over in his hands. "I find, though, I cannot give up my nightly ritual of reading," he smiled. "There is something quite comforting about the babblings of ancient kings and philosophers."

She smiled with a weak chuckle, but said nothing. Instead, her eyes fell unfocused on the fire.

Geppetto regarded her carefully. He had known the young woman for years of course, long before she'd met James and married. Born a princess but forced into exile, Snow had once sought refuge from the Queen's forces in his humble shop. Back then, and in all the months since she and her prince had asked him to join the palace staff and serve on the war council, he knew her to be a bright, impetuous soul with a fiery temper and a passionate heart. Rarely did he see her this…defeated. And it worried him. "What troubles you, Your Highness?"

Snow rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Please, Geppetto. Call me Snow."

He grinned but refused. "Impossible, Ma'am."

She gave a weak sigh and relented. "Everything," she said, answering his question.

He nodded. "You still worry about the queen?"

"The queen, Thomas, Ella…" she trailed off, retreating into herself a bit before she finished, "…and James."

"The prince?" Geppetto asked. "Has something happened?"

"Oh no," Snow replied instantly, "no he's fine it's just…well," she had no words to describe her sorrow, her fears. She could hardly confess her nightmares to the old man – they were terrifying enough to endure, let alone live over again.

"Does he still go to the mines each day?" Geppetto treaded carefully, knowing that such private conversation with a royal wasn't technically proper.

She nodded. "Every day," she said, nearly whispering. "He blames himself for what happened to Thomas. It was his idea—"

"And mine, Your Highness. Don't forget it was I who contacted the Blue Fairy," he added, sternly. This discourse was superfluous of course. Geppetto was fully aware of the guilt and stress beleaguering the prince. For one thing, Grumpy was a terrible gossip. But he was determined that he help these two young lovers as much as he could, and in any way possible, to find peace.

Snow looked up, her eyes misty, though tears never fully formed. "It's not just that," she said quietly. Geppetto gave her a look that urged her to continue. "I have this…this horrible feeling," she said, wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach, "that I'm losing him...that I'm going to lose everything."

Geppetto was silent for he knew what she meant. The words were unspoken, but the incident replayed in the minds of every one of Snow's wedding guests: the queen's threat. The cryptic warning had scared the kingdom into a perpetual state of alert, almost to the point where it didn't matter what the queen was actually planning. The fear of it was paralyzing enough. It was difficult for anyone to feel completely safe or confident. Anyone, of course, except Geppetto. He was far too old and had seen far too much to be frightened by the jealous ravings of a sad, grieving harpy. Besides…if she could only see…Suddenly, he had an idea.

"Your Highness," he leaned forward and whispered gently. "May I show you something?"

Several minutes later, the old carpenter had led Snow out of the library and down the long corridor to his workshop. When the young royal couple first moved into the palace, Geppetto had insisted on personally overseeing all the detailing of every room, from the intricate patterns carved into the doors to the construction of several new and innovative pieces of furniture. Snow's favorite rocking chair had been one of these pieces – a wedding gift, and a sort of 'thank you' from Geppetto and Pinocchio for inviting them into their employ. It was in this workshop that Geppetto now completed orders for many young nobles and families throughout the kingdom. And it was here that he helped rebuild and refinish pieces damaged by forest fires and accidents for some of Prince James's less fortunate subjects in need of assistance. Yes, Geppetto's work kept him very busy, and though Pinocchio was now old enough to act as his apprentice, there were limits yet to the boy's skills.

Of all of this Snow was well aware, which is why it shocked her as she was drawn into the workshop to find dozens of pieces that seemed merely decorative: wooden trinkets and trifles all with tags attached bearing the names of some of their wealthiest visitors from all the realms. One project especially caught her eye and she stopped before an exquisitely crafted miniature house. It was a strange sort of architecture, a model she had never seen before, and yet at the same time, familiar. Each room was painted a different color, some with such intricate detailing and design work she felt surely it was the work of fairies. Soft carpeting covered the floors of the miniature rooms and in the center, seated on a circular staircase that climbed the entire height of the house, was a beautiful porcelain doll with rosy cheeks, ebony hair, and a pale yellow frock.

"For Lord Phillip and Lady Aurora, Your Highness," Geppetto answered her unspoken question. She turned to the craftsmen. "They ordered it for a young peasant woman's daughter who lost everything in a tremor near their southern border."

Snow's breath hitched in her throat and she nodded respectfully to the work. "It's beautiful."

He smiled and continued to lead her down rows and rows of works in projects. "This one," he pointed to a life-size rocking horse with a half painted saddle in fiery swirls of black and red, "is for young Samson."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Our chef?"

"Aye Ma'am. His son is turning six this year. He and his wife commissioned it for his birthday."

So many trinkets, toys, and decorations. So many different types of crafts as well. For Geppetto was a master of all trades and could tinker with clay and porcelain as well as he could with lumber. "You see, Your Highness," he said gently, "your subjects have not given up hope. Every special order I receive is for some loved one – a son or daughter, husband or wife. There's even one back there for Red from Granny – a miniature wolf dressed as a milk maid."

Snow snorted and shook her head. "Those two have the oddest sense of humor."

He nodded, "inspired by the greatest adoration and love. Love that lasts," he added meaningfully. "Love that can withstand any curse." At last they seemed to arrive at Geppetto's intended destination as they had reached the furthest corner of the shop. Again, Snow was amazed for she stood before a large furnace surrounded by pieces of tinted glass hanging from the rafters. "Glass blowing?" she asked in wonderment.

"A new hobby of mine," he said. "Pinocchio has gotten quite good."

It was then that Snow noticed something twinkle and shimmer into view. She stepped toward the work bench and reached for its delicate form. It looked to be a child's mobile one would hang over a crib, and hanging from each rod were dozens of small glass unicorns, the hue and intensity of sapphire. The sculpturing was delicate and lovely, and Snow was reminded of a child's toy she once had: a blue unicorn statue her mother had given her when she was very young. Her mother told her that unicorns were among the kingdom's most noble animals and to treasure the toy as she would one day treasure and care for all the magical creatures of the land.

"This one," came Geppetto's voice, which seemed – suddenly – very far away, "was commissioned by a young man for his wife…She is expecting their first child." Slowly, Snow turned and met the old man's meaningful gaze. "He said she had told him of a trinket her mother had given her long ago…which was lost to her when her father remarried."

Tears stung her eyes as she looked back at the mobile. "Oh Geppetto," she whispered.

"You have not lost him, Your Highness," he said quietly. "And the mines are not the only place he goes." He reached forward and disentangled one of the hanging unicorns from another, setting them right again and swinging them gently in the moonlight. "He visits me every day to check on it. I have never seen a man more in love."

She was too overwhelmed to speak so she simply nodded and smiled through bleary eyes.

They were silent a few moments more before she turned to leave. Geppetto did not follow her, for he knew she would be ready now to return to her chamber. As she approached the door to the workshop, stopping again before the intricate dollhouse, she turned and sighed. "Thank you," she said softly. Geppetto gave a reverent bow as she opened the door and headed back up the corridor to her room.

James was waiting for her when she returned. She knew he would be, for she had been away from their bed too long and he was not a heavy sleeper. When she opened the door, she could tell he had been pacing in front of their window, for he whipped around, the ends of his dressing robe fluttering like a cape. "Are you all right?" he asked, his face stricken and panicked.

Snow said nothing, for she had not yet found her voice. Instead, she walked right up and embraced him, enveloped in warmth and concern.

A slightly bewildered and still fatigued prince hugged her back instantly, though he still felt something was amiss. After a few moments, he pulled back and instinctively laid his hand over her belly. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head, covering his hand with her own. "Nothing," she said finally, running her fingers lovingly through his disheveled hair. "I love you."

He blinked, still a bit confused, but smiled. "I um…I love you too." He cupped her face in his hand and held her gaze. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She glanced over to the crib again, above which, she now knew, would hang the gift. She kept it to herself, of course. 'Charming' hated a ruined surprise. And her discovery hardly meant they were out of the woods yet where the queen was concerned. But this time, it did not pain her to look at it. It did not pain her to think of their child. For now…here…in the comfort of their chamber and the safety of his embrace…she had hope.

"I'm fine," she said, turning back to her husband. And she was true to her word. For at least one night, as she lay in his arms, the nightmare did not return.

*****Cannot WAIT for tonight's episode. Prince's back-story. Are you as psyched as I am? Enjoy and stay tuned!*****


	5. I Still Prefer Charming

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that _ABC_'s geniuses have given us on _Once Upon a Time_.

**Filling in the blanks…**

_Extensions or POV shifts of what might have happened from Snow's and/or Prince Charming's perspectives. From various episodes and in no particular order…__**SPOILERS possible if you are not completely current on **__**Once Upon a Time**__**.**_

Episode 1x01 – Sometime between "Do you promise?" and "I do." in the pilot.

_I Still Prefer Charming…_

Snow's father, Leopold, finished building his summer palace in the year of her birth. So when the king took his new family to the kingdom's newest and most beautiful retreat, it quickly grew to be the first and best home Snow ever knew. The only memories she had of her mother were of their summer retreats. The only recollection she had of a truly happy family, untainted and undisturbed by recent events with her stepmother, were forever married in her mind to the stately halls of her childhood home.

Now, riding Blossom, her favorite gray, alongside her new betrothed and his fearsome stallion, she relished the thought of bringing peace and family to the estate once more. Its majestic halls and archways already being restored by Geppetto and its pastoral gardens and grounds had been neglected far too long.

Still, though the portent of a happy ending at last seemed near, though everything from his farcical engagement to her poisonous slumber was behind them, Snow could not shake the feeling that there still lingered between them, an obstacle – yet to be defined but impossible to ignore. King Midas was…not pleased. James's father had been livid. And she could tell the kings' disapproval had taken its toll on her charming prince, a man – she thought indignantly on his behalf – who had already given of himself so much in both their names. And then there was her _own _unfortunate relation whose failed sleeping spell was sure to be the cause of much resentment in that wretched, bitter woman's life. But these, again, were challenges of the past…So why then, as Snow studied her soon-to-be-husband, did he look so…uneasy?

She cast a glance at James as she slowed her horse to a steady trot. He was lost in thought, hardly noticing the small tear that had just ripped into his regal red coat. She opened her mouth to say something but decided against it. There were far too many guards and attendants in their small travelling party, and – spotting a familiar path that forked off to the left – she suddenly had a much better idea.

"Wesley," she called to her late father's most trusted knight, stopping abruptly in the middle of the path. James too halted and turned.

"Yes m'lady?"

"The prince and I will race along this path and take the detour through the grove. We will meet up with the party when the paths reunite at the forest's edge."

James started. "Snow what—"

"As you wish Your Highness," was Wesley's immediate reply. Since she was a child, Snow's passion for riding would not be tamed and the veteran knight knew that his men would be no match for her even if he insisted they accompany them through the grove. Indeed he wondered, grinning to himself as he pulled his horse back into formation, if the prince would be able to keep up.

The rest of the party followed suit and continued on the main road while Snow turned her horse toward the skewed path and James trotted up next to her. "You know we'll lose the light soon," he said, still a bit thrown by her abrupt change in course.

"What's the matter, Charming?" she flashed him a stunning smile. "Afraid you'll lose?" Her taunt had the desired effect, for he tightened his grip on the reigns, and she saw a hint of rivalry break across his previously troubled face. Lord and Lady glared at each other with a mixture of playfulness and passion in their eyes, and without another word they were off.

Speeding through the dense forest, Snow raced along the path, expertly leaping over fallen trees and protruding slabs of rock. She could hear her beloved behind her and knew he was catching up, but she was not worried. Despite their first meeting, Snow had clearly proved to be the better horseman, and just as his horse's massive build lined up neck-and-neck with her gray, she gave Blossom a powerful kick that propelled them a few full horse lengths ahead of her prince.

"All right, all right!" he yelled, laughing as he slowed Cain to a jaunt, "you win, my love!"

Quite pleased with herself, she retreated back to him and smiled warmly. Glancing around, she nodded toward a small watering pond a few hundred feet away. "She's thirsty," Snow said, affectionately patting her horse near its bridle. "Let's rest a while."

James nodded and they dismounted, walking their steeds up to the pond and tying the reigns to a few low-hanging branches. James offered her his arm and the two strolled around the pond's edge for a while, content in each other's company as they discussed plans for the palace, their household, and their sovereignty. Snow was thrilled when he not only agreed that Geppetto should remain on staff after his renovation of the castle was complete but actually suggested that he and Grumpy join the war council along with Doc and Jiminy Cricket. In all her years as witness and heir to her father's monarchy, she had never met a prince with so noble and humble a regard for his fellow men. Their discourse continued pleasantly on such topics, but after a time, Snow was dismayed to see the preoccupation return to his face. He grew quiet once more and the feeling that he was holding something back from her sank once more into the pit of her stomach. She removed her arm, slipped her hand in his and squeezed tightly, making him turn to face her. "James," she said quietly, "what's wrong?"

James sighed, for he knew the question was coming. He looked out across the pond and then back to her again, and she could tell he was coming to some sort of a decision. Finally, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a familiar looking leather pouch. "I have something I want to give you," he said thoughtfully as he unfastened the flap and reached inside. "But I also have something I need to say and," he paused and looked at her, "I fear it may…alter your opinion of me."

Snow shook her head, at once dismissing such absurdity. "Impossible," she said.

"Just…hear me out," James held up his hand and chuckled, wishing he had her faith at the moment. He withdrew something from the pouch before returning it to his pocket and then held before her, a ring. "Recognize this?" he asked. And she did, for she had guessed even before she saw it that he was retrieving the beautiful gold band with the jade stone that they had fought trolls to reclaim so many months ago. "You said it wasn't your style," he added with a small grin.

She smiled and looked from the ring to his eyes. "I think I could be persuaded otherwise," she said wryly. But when she moved to touch it, he surprised her by holding it back.

"Do you remember I told you it belonged to my mother?" he said in a slow, sad voice.

"Yes?"

He sighed and met her gaze again. "What would you say if I told you…that she gave it to me only days before we met?"

Snow drew back, her brow creased in confusion. She knew little of King George's late wife, but she certainly knew his kingdom had mourned her loss _years _ago. "But Queen Diana—"

"Was not my mother," he said quickly, intensely. "And George is not my father." She stared at him, and James was unable to read her face as he had grown so accustomed to doing in the past few days. His stomach churned all his fears intensified, but it was out now, and he knew he must continue. "The kingdom was ailing, and King George made the deal with Midas."

"His gold for the dragon's head," Snow recited as if recounting a history lesson.

"Right," James sighed. "George had his champion. His son. But he was slain in battle before he could complete the quest."

"Slain?" Snow tried to follow, "But—"

"I wasn't born a prince, Snow," he said, his voice trembling, and it stunned her…for she had never heard this man so fragile. "I was born to peasants. Farmers. And when my father died, I took care of the land." He dropped his gaze, looking out over the pond again. "We were struggling to make ends meet when a man came and told us the King needed my help. That he needed someone to slay a dragon. Someone to play the part of his son."

Snow shook her head in confusion. "But why you? Why did he—"

"It was Rumpelstiltskin," he said gravely, and the pronouncement dropped with a heavy, almost audible thud between them.

Snow's heart sank, "Rumpelstiltskin," she repeated, though more to herself.

"The king and queen were barren. Thirty years ago, Rumpelstiltskin came to my parents and made a deal with them for one of their sons." He paused and met her disbelieving gaze, "one of their…_twin _sons."

Snow closed her eyes. "Your brother," she whispered.

He nodded, "my brother."

"So all this time—"

"I've been pretending," he said, his voice suddenly frustrated and harsh. He turned from her and stalked to the water's edge. "Playing a role that was only supposed to be for one mission, one quest."

"But Midas wanted more," she offered, finally able to put the pieces together.

He nodded, his back still turned.

She saw his hands harden into fists as he spoke through clenched teeth. "King George forced me to accept Abigail's hand or he would…" she approached him slowly, a tear trailing down her cheek as she guessed the rest. "He would kill my mother if I didn't obey."

Snow had had enough. Refusing to allow him to punish himself further, she touched his arm and turned him toward her.

"I'm the same man who fell in love with you, Snow," he said, still clasping his mother's ring in his hand. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head, "but I'm no prince."

She looked at the ring, and for an instant she was struck with such regret for having carelessly sold it to the trolls. No wonder he came looking for her. No wonder he'd soldiered on through hours of her teasing and derision to reclaim it.

Lovingly, she grazed her fingertips gently down his cheek before letting her hand rest over his heart. What a burden he had carried. What a secret for him to be haunted by alone. Reaching up and cradling the back of his neck, she drew him closer to her and whispered, "Look at me." He obeyed. "You found me in a coffin deep in the forest and cured me of a sleep from which I was never to awake." He swallowed hard but didn't respond. She looked down and turned his hand over in her palms before gently removing the ring from his grasp and slipping it on her finger. He watched her, amazed, and then met her gaze again. "You're _my _Prince. And that's all that matters."

James became completely undone and wrapped his arms instantly around her waist, burying his head in her shoulder. Snow held him to her and cried for him, for his mother, for all he'd sacrificed. She could feel the tension ease from his arms and the weight of it lift off his shoulders. Eventually, he pulled back, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, their embrace sweet and achingly tender as their kiss reaffirmed the love that brought them together in the first place, the love that had awoken her.

When at last they pulled apart, James clasped her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her hand and then the ring, and then finally, he smiled. "I love you," he said, his voice low and impassioned.

She smiled too, but (feeling suddenly quite devilish) replied, "No wonder I ride a horse better than you."

The remark so startled her prince that she seized the opportunity to wriggle from his grasp, sent him stumbling backward, and ran laughing up the small hill toward Blossom. She reached for the reigns and untangled them from the branches, pausing to glance back at the pond. No sign of him. Still sprawled in the mud no doubt, she thought. Honestly, these men – weighed down by their heavy swords and cloaks! Still laughing, she anchored one foot in the stirrups and prepared to mount when, out of nowhere, a strong arm encircled her waist and yanked her from the saddle. His capture was swift but the force of it sent them both tumbling into a bed of leaves on the forest floor.

Snow, still giggling, collapsed against his chest and settled into his arms, panting.

"You can't hide from me, remember?" he said gruffly, pulling her to him and tilting up her chin so their eyes were level. "I will always find you."

She kissed him warmly, simple and chaste at first, but he cradled the back of her head in his hand and held her to him, deepening it further, and Snow felt an electric thrill run up her spine as she sank into his embrace. "So," she said after a time as the moon crept into the sky. All levity dropped from her voice and she asked earnestly, "what's your real name?"

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, caressing long locks of black hair falling in waves down her back. "It's James," he said. She arched an eyebrow but didn't respond. He took her hand and laced his fingers through her own. "My life began when I met you," he whispered. "And I met you as James."

She swallowed hard, feeling certain that no one in her life had ever loved her so much or so well. The emotion was overpowering to the point of clairvoyance – she was suddenly quite sure that their love would, one day, transcend the very limits of the realms. "Very well," she smiled with an approving nod. "James it shall be," she kissed him again and then added, "but I still prefer Charming."

*****Bah! Why do shows take December off? Anyone else bummed to know tomorrow's the last episode for 2011?**

**Anyway, you readers out there are wonderful. Thank you so much for all the reviews and reads of this and "In the Shadow of the Toll Bridge." I can't possibly name you all, but kudos especially to OneTreeFan, KayleeThePete and red lighting for such great and amazing feedback.**

**More ideas floating in my head…working hard to get them on paper. Thanks and stay tuned!*****


	6. A Prophecy Revealed

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not dare claim any ownership for the fabulous characters, situations, plots and/or spins on old stories that _ABC_'s geniuses have given us on _Once Upon a Time_.

**Filling in the blanks…**

_Extensions or POV shifts of what might have happened from Snow's and/or Prince Charming's perspectives. From various episodes and in no particular order…__**SPOILERS possible if you are not completely current on **__**Once Upon a Time**__**.**_

Episode 1x01 – Visiting Rumpelstiltskin in the mines…

_A Prophecy Revealed_

"I need her name!" screamed Rumpelstiltiskin, his maddening voice ringing in the Prince's ears.

"_Her?_" he whipped around, facing the barely human sorcerer. "It's a _boy._" He turned back toward the door, taking his wife by the arm…but Snow wouldn't move.

"Missy, missssssy," 'Stiltskin hissed. "_You _know I'm right," he soothed. James tugged at Snow's elbow but again, the princess remained still. "Please…what's her name?" the magus finished in a voice almost hypnotically sweet.

In horror, James watched his wife turn. "Emma," she whispered. James closed his eyes. "Her name is Emma."

Hurried now, and with perhaps more insistence than was necessary, James ushered her back up through the mines to the forest entrance. They moved in silence toward the carriage awaiting them (for Snow could no longer ride on horseback). Grumpy acted the role of footman today to minimize exposure of the palace guards to the cells in the mines. The princess remained silent as her husband handed her into the carriage, climbed in behind her, and slammed the door shut.

It wasn't until the crack of Grumpy's whip started the horses noisily cantering over the gravel that either of them spoke again.

"James—"

"You gave him her name." James glared at her.

"We _had_ to know—"

"Her _name, _Snow," he said curtly. "I _told _you about the power Rumpelstiltskin gains in a name. Hell, the _guard _told you when we walked in the door!"

Snow crossed her arms over her chest. "He wouldn't have told us anything otherwise," she said, her tone as terse and tight as her husband's.

"And what of it?" he threw his hands up, "Tell me what good came of him having power over our child, Snow. What _more _do we know now than we did before?"

"Do not shout," she warned, steadily.

"I'm not shouting—"

"And don't patronize me," she cut in, leaning forward. "Do you think that was easy for me? Do you truly think me so naïve? So ignorant of the costs of making a deal with that man?"

"And yet you entered into one anyway. Willingly!" he snapped, unable – try as he might – to keep the bite out of his tone.

"See reason!" she protested, ignoring the painful aches running up and down her spine as the carriage throttled back and forth over the bumpy terrain. They were on the dirt roads now, probably pulling past the trails leading to Granny's old house. But the tension in the carriage prevented Snow from noticing anything apart from the iciness between them. "You know better than _anyone_ that Rumpelstiltskin doesn't do anything for _free_."

"You don't understand—"

"No, _you _don't—"

"Will you let me finish?" he cried. Snow sucked in a deep breath but allowed him to continue. The defiant glare in her eyes reminded James of a girl he'd once trapped in a tree…demanding her release and calling him _Charming_. "We still have no idea what the queen is planning or what magics she has at her disposal."

"Yes we do—"

"Please!" he implored, clenching his hands together and shaking them in front of her. "There's a curse, fine. He told us that much. But we still don't know how she'll do it? When? How much time we may have to stop her? The only thing we _do_ know—" he thrust out his finger, pointing in the direction of the mines, "is _that _man is twice as powerful and ten times as dangerous as your stepmother will ever be."

It should have been enough. It was certainly a valid point, and it was clear that both prince and princess spoke from only the best intentions. But fear overpowered even the semblance of logic, gripping their hearts to the point of breaking. So the argument continued in circles all the way up to the palace, neither really knowing how to end it, but both too stubborn to stop.

"How can you be so angry with me?" Snow asked as James helped her out of the carriage, still managing a bit of patience for his pregnant wife as she struggled down the small stepstool and moved slowly up the palace steps. The guards opened the gilded doors and Snow snatched her hand away as she cleared the last step, caring not for the exposure of their fight to palace staff.

"I'm not angry, Snow. I'm _terrified,_" was James's reply and his voice shook as he said it. "You've given that man the same power over our child as he—" he stopped himself, glancing up at the armored men stationed around the corridor, dutifully trying to ignore their quarrel. He stepped closer to his wife and whispered, though it came out as a hiss, "as he had over my mother!"

He pulled away again, fighting back the tremors and tears stirred by having voiced this deepest fear out loud.

For once, Snow had no reply. She simply gaped at him, as if only just remembering how much time James had already spent with Rumpelstiltskin. How much agony he'd already braved trying to find Thomas, to help Ella. She felt for him. She wept for him. And yet…

She could not help the powerful voice within her that screamed for her to go back, to bargain for more, to find out as much as she possibly could to save their child…their daughter. She rested her hands reverently over her stomach. It would be a girl. Rumpelstiltskin had seen it. Prophesied it. And so she was sure of it… as sure as she was that they would name her Emma…as sure as she was that they would lose her. Her mind adrift in this last, most haunting premonition, she barely realized that James had moved away from her and was heading back toward the doors. "Where are you going?" she asked, her tone more pleading now than hostile. A servant was handing him a whip and riding cloak.

"To see a friend," he replied without looking at her…and then he was gone.

It was well past midnight by the time James stabled Cain and trudged up the hill toward the castle. His lips were chapped, his cloak torn in a few places, and every muscle throbbed with the pain of having raced too far, too deep, and too wide without rest. But it was done. The scouts would be sent. Peter Knook had never been a very easy sprite to deal with, and James's unprecedented request of sending out animals into dangerous territory to gather information for a _human_ was certainly distressing to any inhabitant of Burzee forest. But even the knooks could appreciate the magnitude of the vision Rumpelstiltskin foretold. A curse that somehow trapped the entire world in a prison of time? That was a fate not even the animals of the realm wished to tempt. As lord and master of all the woodland creatures, Peter Knook agreed it was necessary to confirm its truth, but at a price. James promised to send his best men into the forest to protect those creatures who must infiltrate the queen's castle. Snow's bluebirds would not do. Peter would send crows, wolves, hounds – animals that James's men would help in reaching the castle, and then transport back to safety when the deed was done.

When the prince finally reached the doors, he couldn't help but take a deep breath, half expecting Snow to be standing right there in the entrance hall, waiting to resume their fight (or perhaps just waiting to give him another scar on the chin). The thought of it (combined perhaps with the lateness of the hour) struck him as oddly amusing, and he actually chuckled as he braced himself, signaling the guards to open the door. All was quiet. The corridor was empty save for the guards. With a sigh, he handed his gear to the waiting attendant, exchanging his gear for a torch to light his way.

The castle hallways were still and eerie at this hour of night: stone aisles that stretched so long they seemed to disappear into darkness. In the daylight, sun would stream through tinted glass, bouncing off crystal chandeliers handing merrily from the rafters. But walking through the vast and empty hallways now, deprived even of the candlelight that lit the lamps in the early evenings, James couldn't help but feel the burdens and distress of the night envelop him. He should not have lectured Snow. He'd regretted it even then. And what she'd said was painfully true – 'Stiltskin never worked for free. But having been through so much with that man already, having seen the degree of terror, turmoil and tragedy left in his wake, James couldn't help but feel the mounting pressure weighing upon him of unknown horrors still to come.

Windswept and fatigued as these disturbing thoughts plagued him, he turned toward the huge, spiral staircase that led to their chambers and placed his torch in an empty sconce when something caught his eye – a soft, orange glow beyond the stairs at the end of the hallway. He had to squint, for the room was far off. He guessed rightly that it was emanating from the kitchens, for as he drew closer to it, he could smell the remnants of the raspberry-glazed lamb and potatoes Samson and Bashful had prepared that evening. He was just wondering whether Snow had rung the servants for a late night snack, when he opened the door…and saw Snow herself, seated on a stool near the fire.

She looked up as soon as the door opened and their eyes locked. His heart skipped a few beats as it always did when her beauty crept up on him unexpectedly. She sat on a stool with her back leaning up against the cutting table. The firelight danced across her skin, illuminating the graceful movement of her arms as she absently stirred her drink with a stick of cinnamon. A pale yellow dressing gown, which James got the distinct feeling had been wrapped snugly over her nightgown before the fire burned bright enough, was now draped casually around her shoulders, falling open at the waist and exposing her small but certainly visible bump. She was…stunning.

"Hi," he said, a little throatier than he had intended.

She let out a sigh, as if she'd been holding her breath. "Hi."

"I'm sorry—" he started, and at the same moment—

"Don't," she said, shaking her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"It was wrong of me to yell."

"You were protecting me," she insisted, and then with a faint smile, "if I didn't have you looking out for me, I would still be in that coffin." He smiled back. "It's no one's fault," she continued, staring down at the steaming cocoa in her hands. "No one but _her_." James moved into the room and closed the gap between them, clasping her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. He struggled, trying to think of something to say that might comfort her, but she was right. It all came back to the queen. The _evil _queen and her violent and irrational vendetta against his bride. Thankfully, Snow changed the subject as she laced her fingers comfortably through his own. "Where were you?"

"I went to see Peter," he said, settling down on the stool next to her.

Her brow creased in confusion, "Peter Pan?"

James started and then chuckled, "No, Peter Knook."

"Oh." Snow withdrew her hand and returned it to her mug, slightly embarrassed.

"Peter Pan doesn't speak with grownups, dear."

"Yes, I know that," she shook her head, annoyed and rolling her eyes. "So what did he say?"

James drew in a deep breath. "He agreed to help us."

"How?"

"Reconnaissance," he replied. She tilted her head to one side as she raised her cup to her lips, her eyes bidding him continue. "He'll send his scouts into the Dark Forest. We'll send our men with them for protection and together they'll try to confirm the queen's plan."

She nodded, listening intently. "Good." She sipped from her mug and set it down once more.

Her gaze settled again on the fire in front of her, and James had the sense that her mind was returning to unpleasant musings. Subtly, he peeked over the rim of her mug and confirmed his suspicions. "So," he said in a lighter tone. "Cinnamon and…cocoa?"

"Hmm?" she roused from her dim stare, looking up at him and then back down at her mug. "Oh, I know," she let out a tiny laugh, "I think…I think it's Emma." She paused, smoothing her hand over her belly. "I've never even tried it this way but I had a craving for it and now it seems I can't get enough."

James smiled at his expecting wife and plucked the cup from her hands, taking a tiny sip. "She's got good taste," he said after a moment, returning it to her.

She smiled and reached up to caress his cheek. "Just like me."

He clasped that hand, pressed a kiss to her palm and then brushed a tendril of her hair off her face. "So," he sighed, stroking his thumb over her the back of her hand now, "speaking of…Emma…" he trailed off, eyeing her thoughtfully.

She held his gaze but was confused by his pause. "What?" she asked.

"'Emma' Snow?"

"Oh!" she gasped, realizing his meaning at once. She smiled and shook her head. "I don't know. I was standing there listening to him," she hesitated, and her mind traveled back to that gray, dismal place she had been hours before. _I want her name! I need her name! Give me HER name!_ The screeching voice should have terrified her, but it brought to mind only one thing. "He implied it would be a girl and…her name…it…it just came to me."

James looked down, covering her hand with his over her womb. His heart both ached and swelled, for he was still somewhat in awe of the tiny life growing inside of her. He closed his eyes, realizing almost for the first time that the queen's curse was _not _the only prophecy they had heard tonight. One far more joyful filled his soul now. A daughter. They were having a girl.

"Do you like it?"

"Hmm?"

"'Emma', do you like it."

He looked up into eyes brimming with hope. "It's beautiful," he whispered. She smiled, this time bright and beaming, and was leaning forward to kiss him when he added (for he could not help himself), "You sure we don't want to name her Mildred though? Just to be safe?"

She pulled back and punched him hard in the arm, but he grinned as her laughter filled the kitchen – a strong, healing laugh that seemed at last to ease the tension from her face and bring out the fire in her eyes. "All right then," he said, rubbing his arm, "Emma it is."

When Snow finally felt she had satisfied her newfound craving (though her prince talked her into bringing an extra cup up to bed just in case) the pair retired to their chambers. Dressing for bed, James spoke at length about his meeting with Peter and the other creatures of Burzee. It had been a tiring journey, but a quick one, for the clearing for the council of knooks, nymphs and gnomes was not far, and he'd had plenty of help from Flora and Fauna to guide the way. "Not Merriweather?" Snow asked as she removed her dressing gown and settled in under the sheets.

James tilted his head up thoughtfully as he pulled off one of his boots. "No," he said, "I think they said she went with Phillip and Aurora to deliver that doll house."

As he continued to prepare for bed, Snow's mind raced back to the night she'd first seen the doll house. It reminded her, of course, of certain – other – gifts she'd seen in the making that evening. She glanced at the crib over which now hung the crystal mobile Geppetto had so exquisitely crafted. Remnants of that evening played on in her mind and she indulged herself in a private grin.

"What?" James eyed her curiously as he climbed into bed next to her.

"Nothing," she said, waiting for him to settle. "You know, I was thinking," she started carefully as she struggled to turn herself on her side. James propped himself up on his elbow, his hand cradling his neck as he faced her.

"About?"

"Rumpelstiltskin," she said bluntly. Snow was wary about bringing it up again, but she was certain it was a perspective worth considering. "Believe me," she said hurriedly, "I _do_ understand the danger, and I know—"

But James shook his head and waved her off. "I know you do," he brushed the loose silken strands of hair off her face again. It was a habit he'd enjoyed forming– a small though treasured privilege of his as her lover and partner that now, more than ever, he refused to take for granted. "What is it?"

Snow closed her eyes, remembering vividly every detail of that wretched encounter. "When the curse comes," she said steadily, able to approach the prediction with a clearer head now, "he said we would all be in a prison."

"Of time," he confirmed.

"Right, a prison of time," she said. "Whatever _that_ means." James smirked and she continued. "But he said 'our'prisons, James. _'Our'_ prisons, not _'yours'_."

James's brow creased in thought, "which means—"

"Meaning _he'll _be trapped too. Rumpelstiltskin believes he _himself_ will be imprisoned."

James pondered that for a moment. "Okay?"

"We both know how…difficult he was to catch."

He looked down. "Yes we do," he muttered, shuddering at the memory of their botched capture, which had cost young Ella her husband.

She placed a finger under his chin and turned his head back to face her, "and if there's one thing I've learned about Rumpelstiltskin, it's that he's on no one's side but his own."

The thought intrigued her prince, and he propped himself up straighter as he considered it. "So you're thinking-"

"That if our daughter is the savior…and Rumpelstiltskin knows her name –"

"He might then have power over the queen."

"Precisely."

James looked at her, still a tad incredulous, "Keep your friends close?"

She nodded, "and your enemies closer."

He sighed, massaging the ridge of his nose as he winced. "It's certainly possible." He looked up at her with a half smile, "If only the world worked that way."

She closed her eyes and was about to respond when she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. Jerking up in bed, she hugged herself around her middle and gasped.

"What? What is it?" James cried, bolting up on his knees as he reached for her.

Snow paused mid-cringe, waiting…hoping…and then it happened again. Another small gasp…and then she smiled.

"What?" the prince cried, perplexed that his wife was now grinning, as if this were some private joke he was not privy to.

"It's Emma," she said. "She kicked."

James's eyes widened. "Really?" he asked, "has she ever done that?"

Snow shook her head. "Here," she said, taking one of his hands from her shoulder and holding it to their wriggling baby. Each kick was fainter now than the first one had been, though she supposed it initially felt strong because she was not expecting it. "Do you feel her?" She squeezed her husband's hand, divinely thankful that their earlier quarrel had not prevented him from sharing this with her. The baby's kicks were like soft thumps or butterflies dancing against her insides, and though they subsided, the spunk behind them was unmistakably…theirs. "She strong," Snow giggled. "I wonder where she gets _that _from."

At this, James had to laugh and leveled his eyes with hers. "Her _mother_," he challenged, pointing to a significant scar on his chin.

She grinned sheepishly and then cupped his cheek in her hand. "I love you," she whispered.

He kissed her then, his lips soft and tender against her own. She moaned, growing warm and excited as he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressed kisses to her cheeks…her eyes…her temples…her forehead. He was so gentle it was _excruciating_ and she pulled him toward her, wanting him, needing him to be closer.

They sank into each other's arms and souls as the early morning dew washed away the evening's distress, and the sun peeked its way above the horizon. "What do you think, Emma?" James asked after a long while. His wife's passions had given way to exhaustion and he was left contented and watching her sleep as the sounds of morning pervaded the air. He smoothed his hand once more over her belly and whispered, "Are you ready to take on the evil queen?" He was still for a moment, holding his breath. And then he felt it. Another light kick against his palm. James broke into a grin and looked up at the face of his sleeping princess. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

*****Well…that was a much longer chapter than I started out writing…I dunno, you ever write something and then the characters just kind of take over? **

**Many people have been asking me to continue "In the Shadow of the Toll Bridge." Those requests have not fallen on deaf ears, but as my students are nearing their winter break and their writing is testing my sanity, I fear I will not put the pen to paper on David and Mary Margaret until at least late next week. I will continue it though, for you have inspired me with ideas **

**More "blanks to fill" as they occur to me. Until then, happy holidays!*****


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